


The Golden Worded Boy.

by Larryloveswritten



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Writer!Louis, libary fic, schoolboy!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larryloveswritten/pseuds/Larryloveswritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A two floored cottage in Cheshire was converted to a bookshop, no on has ever seen the boy who runs it. All they know is from the workers who say he has a Doncaster accent, making him interesting to all the people. One day harry goes to the small shop, he finds himself falling in love with the little place and maybe the never seen before owner as well. </p>
<p>:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Golden Shop.

On the corner of a street in Cheshire sat a two floored cottage, it was once owned by an old Italian woman who had lived in it since it was built, then there was a French man and then his daughter, now it has been empty for two years but for one year the for sale post has been gone. No one went in or out, not a human seen near by until one day ether was a set of men putting a sign up, the whole street came to watch as the sigh hung above the door and the curtains to the main front window opened, revealing books set up in lovely displays. The sign read “The golden worded book shop.” Written in gold on an old oak background, it was cut into the shape of an open book, there were soft golden designs and pictures painted around it, people reading and scenes from famous books. The whole place looked almost Victorian and antique, I guess the right word to use would be quirky. It had soft vines covering the walls, railings with flower shapes around the borders of the land, the door had the name written in gold on it and a small window in the middle at the top. It had character and made many smile just by walking past, it was always loved just not always used. 

Its was open a week before harry the local sweetheart entered it, harry was known for reading, singing, being smart, kind and all round what every girl dreamed of, plus he was a charmer and could charm the knickers off a nun. He walked in to the sweet vintage shop, the inside was in a Victorian style with a colour scheme of brown, cream and gold. There were bookshelf's that reached from the floor to the roof and covered every wall, leading off into labyrinths of books. At the back was an old worn armchair, next to it sat a round wooden table, the wood was worn and painted white, with sweet paintings of vines rapping around it. On the table sat a tea pot , a fridge sat under it, in the fridge was a small jug of milk, next to the tea pot sat a bowl of sugar cubes and an empty tea cup. Harry loved this place, he had only been in here for ten minutes and loves it.   
Harry grabbed twenty or so books and sat in the chair, he poured himself a cup of tea and settled himself into the chair, letting his legs dangle off one arm whilst his head rested on the other. Then he started on his books, he read ‘Jane Eyre’, then ‘pride and prejudice’, ‘war of the worlds’ and worked his way through another twelve before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his sister Gemma, he smiled at her and sat up.

“Harry, we are closing up you need to leave.” She says, smiling at her younger brother. She had always been proud of him, the way he read, the way he talked to people and the way he found the romance in everything. 

“we?” Harry asked, his voice rough from sitting for hours not reading and just drinking overly sweetened tea. His sister smiled at him and helped him bring his last five books to the front desk, he set them down and she let him take them home. The place was both a library and a shop, so he also bought’ war of the worlds’ and a sweet book he read called ‘ you've got mail’. 

Harry was eighteen, he was in sixth year of high school and would be leaving in a month. He found himself spending every Friday running home from school, changing and coming to sit and read. Then there was that one day that changed it, made it all more real.

As harry went to his usual place, set out his tea and put his books on the set, he decided to look at the bookshelf's around the chair. They were filled with books written outside fame, old journals, love letters all put together to form books and then there they were, small self bound and illustrated books. Harry let his hand glide over the set, feeling the embossed illustration and words. He slides one book out and sits in his chair, he starts on the first book of the series called ‘stranger people have happened.’. 

He finishes all his books for the day and heads to the front. Behind the counter stands a boy with black hair in a quiff, olive co loured skin and chocolaty eyes that make your heart thud in your chest. He hands the boy the book that he had found, the book had no authors name but the writing style and illustration are unique, the fact that they seemed hand made really made harry smile. As he handed it to the man, on his name tag it said Zayn, as he handed it to Zayn the boy smirked handing it back to him.

“you may only take these books out, you can not buy them.” He says in a thick Bradford accent, Harry's smile falters at that, but soon there's a smirk on his lips and a brilliant plan in hand. He walks to the back of the shop, its once again closing time and harry is alone as he strolls to the back of the shop, he grabs the hole series of books and leaves with them. As he leaves it starts to rain, he takes of his coat and raps the book in it, letting the rain pelt him. His curls drip, his strong shoulders clung to his soaked top, his muscled stomach easily seen, his dimpled cheeks soaked as he smiles, his hands hug the books to his chest and he giggles as he runs into his house.

That night he sits by his window seat in his room, all the books in front of him, his long legs brought to his chest, his large hands rapped around the books and his green eyes scan the pages. He reads the hole series, he then reads them over again, he laughed, cried, felt anger and love, all in one night. He sat staring at the books, his eyes swapped to his clock, he had been up for nine hours reading them and it was now four in the morning. In the early Morning light, he looked over the cover of all the books, listening to the rain on the windows, thinking of what to with this just starting Saturday and then he notices it, in all of the corners of the books there's a little illustration. A small scroll is drawn in gold, on it the words ‘Love is not a word, it is a life story’ is written. 

He knows he's seen it before and with that he knows what to do, he gets up writes his mother a letter saying ‘Ill be back later and if you need me contact my mobile, I love you mum. Love, Harold.’ He then finished it with a drawing of a rose, like the ones his mother kept in her window box. I grabbed my back pack and put the books in it, I then threw on my hoodie. I slide on my converse, opened the door and walked to the shop. When I got there I looked at the sign of the shop, pulling out a book to compare and smiling. In the corner of the sign is the same scroll, with the same writing and then he knew straight away who the author was. The owner of this store had become Harry's favorite person, but he had never actually seen the boy and that’s where Harry's real story starts.   
:


	2. Letters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns more, about his dream boy.

Harry deicide he would wait the ten minutes for the shop to open, so he sat on the stares and traced the books until they were embedded in his mind. He then looked up to see the boy from yesterday, Zayn, Zayn opened the door. Harry didn’t see a key, why would they have left the door unlocked was all he could think, so he decide to ask.

“Why was the door open?” Harry asks as he picks up his books and follows Zayn inside, the shop is already set up and the tea pot has fresh tea. Harry hadn’t seen anyone come in before Zayn, how did this work, how could this happen.

“The owner opens it an hour before I arrive, so I cant see him.” Zayn replies, with a shrug.

“You never seen him?” Harry asks, before sitting on the counter next to Zayn were Zayn is setting up. 

“Nope, I've only ever heard his voice. He phoned me to interview me for the job, I applied by giving him a letter, I then just showed up when he said so and did as I was told.” Zayn replies as he puts some books on the desk, they are the books saying what's bought and taken out. “See, he fills in his parts of the books then puts them back for me to find” He shows harry the book, then continues flicking through. “What's this?” He asks, producing a letter from the log. “It says its for you.” He hands harry the letter, it has Harold styles written on the front.

“How dose he know my name?” He asks Zayn, a small smile graces his lips as he looks at the familiar hand writing.

“Remember you name is in the log, from when you take out the books.” Zayn says.

“Oh, yeah.” With that harry opens the letter, he starts heading to his usual chair and as he sits down, opens the letter and reads.  
My dear, Harold Styles.

Thank you for taking out my books, as I can guess you worked out I wrote the books. You noticed my signature I'm guessing, from what I have heard from your sister, you would appreciated it. 

I hope you enjoyed them, please tell me if you did. You can reply by leaving your letters in volume one of my series, ok? All I can tell you about myself is that my name is Louis, I'm 20 and I write often. 

I hope you read more of my books as I write them, maybe one day we shall meet. Until then, believe my words and enjoy my writing.  
Love, Louis Tomlinson.”

In the bottom corner of the letter is Louis usual signature and a small drawing of harry curled up in his chair, how did Louis know what he looked like. He looked round the store, then notice the CCTV cameras, they had been hidden in corner and behind wood, as to not effect the vintage look to the place.   
“Dear, Louis Tomlinson. 

Can I call you Lou or Tommo, something more friendly? You can call me Hazza, only my sister calls me that, but I would like you to call me it too. I'm eighteen, I love reading and thank you.

I loved your drawing of me, only now have I noticed the CCTV cameras and i think that there rather unfair, I want to see you too. I believe you’re a brilliant writer and artist, hope to read more.

I would love to draw you but I don’t know what you look like, so for now ill just draw some doodles.

If you have any questions ask me, I love the thought that we know more about each other. i also write, if I let you read them and you find them interesting will you show them in the shop?

Or keep them for yourself?

p.s. I love your sign, you are a brilliant artist as I said and your style of shop is perfect.

Love, you hopefully soon to be, dear friend harry.,

Harry placed his letter in the book and read a few books, before going out to buy food. He came back ten minutes later with a happy meal, he sat in his spot, made tea, grabbed the set again and set to reading whilst eating. He mad sure to use one hand on each, as not to mark the books. He felt he would have to be delicate with Louis books, with Louis words and that only his eyes should see them. He went back to the front of the book to add to his letter, he thought the doodles of vines and roses weren’t enough for Louis, but what he found was shocking.

“Dear, Hazza.

Thank you, you are awfully sweet. Before you think you missed me, I got Zayn to put the book in my hall and once he left retrieved it, I then got him to put it back the same way.   
If I was ever to let someone see me it would be you, you would be the only person to see me since I was eighteen. I have a few issues with the world and people, but that’s for   
another time.

I will also answer all your questions, when you ask them. Your question about your books, I don’t think I could share such a sweet gift. I would keep them to myself and put copy's out for you. I could put your name on them or not, I could also illustrate them for you or not.

I was wondering, what is your favourite colour, your favourite animal and favourite place?

Also, if you don’t mind, could you tell me a secret only I will know? That way when I tell you mine, I will feel more balanced. Why do I trust you so much, without even facing you?  
I hope to hear from you soon.

Love, boo bear. (something only my mother has ever called me.),

Harry smiled at the letter and looked at the back, it was decorated with drawings of harry writing, pages of books, quotes from books were drawn all over it and in the middle was a message .

‘Your rose is beautiful, it is almost as beautiful as you.’

The words made harry blush, his eyes caught the CCTV camera that pointed directly at the chair, he looked straight at it, mouthed thank you and blew it a kiss. He could just imagine Louis blushing, but some how he still couldn’t imagine a face for boo bear. 

All harry could think of was Louis words. His signature.

Love is not a word, it’s a life story.


	3. Chapter 3: Text.

Harry rushed to the store, every story he read of Louis made him feel closer. His body would fill with love for the book and its writer, each word was pulling on his heart. Damn, Harold styles has it bad for Louis Tomlinson.

“Zayn!” Harry called as he opened the door to the shop, no reply. He must have got here before Zayn, he shrugged and headed for his usual seat. After putting the books he had read back, he set up for Zayn and found some books to read. He came to Louis section seeing only one new book, weird, normally Louis would finish the whole set and put them all out, not just one. ‘The curled roses of my one boy.’ Harry felt himself being dragged in by the book, a small smirk coating his features

He picked up the book to look at the front, a gasp left his lips and complete joy erupting from him.

Roses a lot like harry covered the book, in the middle was a drawing of a plaque a lot like the one outside the shop, it read the name of the book and under in gold scroll was ‘Love is not a word, it’s a life story. I think I’ve found mine, I hope you have yours.’ Harry let a little chuckle slip from his lips, he looked at the CCTV camera, mouthed a ‘thank you’ and kissed the book. He hoped when Louis got the book back he would also kiss it, there love coming together in one gesture. Geez, Harold has read way to many of Louis stories. Harry chuckled to himself at his thoughts as he sat to set up his tea, finding a cup already made how he likes it. ‘Oh, Louis.’ Harry thought to himself.

Dear Louis, You sweetheart.

Thank you for the book, you really are perfect. I’m going to give you my phone number, we can text or call, it would be lovely to hear your voice. I’m giving you this because I have exams coming up, my mum is making me baby sit my neighbours kids ( witch I actually enjoy, there really sweet girls.) and because I want to be able to talk to you every second of the day.

Ill try to be back later, I have to go help my mum clean the attic at my neighbours.

I love you, in case you didn’t know.

From, your Harry.

p.s. Sorry if I went a little far, I just wanted you to know the truth.

(07787878787)

Harry blushed as he finished writing his letter, he placed it in the book and walked out of the store. As he left he nodded to Zayn and gave the CCTV a quick smile, hoping Louis   
was smiling back. H felt as if he was, a small feeling told him so. Little did he know, he was right.

Harry walked up the path to his house when he got a text reading.

Harold, I think your letter was lovely and its always nice to hear the truth. I love you too, you little cheeky prat.

Harry let out a deep laugh, smiling at the text replying quickly with.

You type like you write, I love it when you swear its sexy and glad to know its mutual.

Harry was just about to open his door when he heard his neighbour call his name.

“Harry!” Jay shouted across from her house, harry turned smiling at her.

“Hi, jay.” Harry calls as he runs to the fence and hopes over into Jays front garden.

“Your mums in her and I have some news to tell you.” Jay says, Harry hugs Jay smiling at the women he has always thought of as a second mother. She moved here a few years ago after here son went to London to find work, she has four daughters that Harry takes care of when she’s away and she works as a nurse in the local doctors. Harry’s never met her   
son and he loves her daughters like little sisters.

“Really, what do you want to tell me.” Harry asks following her into the house, smiling as he sees the girls laughing on the couch.

“My son just moved into town a little while ago, he should be coming over tomorrow if you want to meet him.” Jay says smiling, she leads harry to the kitchen where his mother is laughing with Liam, a young doctor who is friends with Jay. Liam and Harry often go out to see sorts and go shopping together.

“Really, sounds cool.” Harry says smiling at jay, something in his brain tells him to think about jays name. Jay Tomlinson, Jay Tomlinson. Harry repeats it in his head when he gets a   
new text.

Harry you are perfect, I miss your smile already.

Harry smiles at the text and then it hits him, Louis Tomlinson, Jay Tomlinson, just moved here and the sweetness they both talk to harry with. Louis is Jays son.  
Jay.

Harry texts it too Louis not knowing how Louis will react but wanting to know if he’s correct. When his phone rings showing Louis name he excuses himself from the room. Harry stands in the garden joy and nerves running through him, he answers it bring it to his ear slowly.

“Hello”

“Your voice is deeper then I thought but still perfect, Hazza.”

“Louis, you sound amazing. Your voice is so light and bubbly.”

“I’m actually blushing, you cheeky bastard!”

“God, I love you.”

“you too Haz. Why did you send me the name Jay.”

“Cause I’m at my neighbour, Jay Tomlinson’s. It has kinda clicked and I realised that her son is you.”

“Oh, I knew you where the Styles she was talking about, I just knew it. I think I love you even more.”

“Come over, come over here and kiss me, if you don’t I might just die Louis!”

“Ill be there in 10.”

“I love you!”

“I love you too, Curly.”

“Curly? Ok, Love you Boo Bear.”

“Oh god, you curly bastard.”

Harry laughed down the phone and pouted as he heard Louis hang up. He was finally going to get too meet Louis.


End file.
